Connor fingered a lapel of his coat nervously. He knew what answer the gang had already framed to the question Goyle put. He knew he would be asked to acquiesce in the blackest piece of treachery that had ever disfigured his evil life; but he knew, too, that Jimmy was hated by the men who formed this strange fraternity. Jimmy worked alone; he shared neither risk nor reward. His cold cynicism was above their heads. They too feared him. Connor cleared his throat “Perhaps if we reasoned----” Goyle and Bat exchanged swift glances. “Ask him to come and talk it over to-night,” said Goyle carelessly. * * * * * “Connor is a long time gone.” Sands turned his unhealthy face to the company as he spoke. Three hours had passed since Connor had left the gang in his search for Jimmy. “He’ll be back soon,” said Goyle confidently. He looked over the assembly of men. “Any of you fellers who don’t want to be in this business can go.” Then he added significantly, “We’re going to settle with Jimmy.” Nobody moved; no man shuddered at the dreadful suggestion his words conveyed. “A million an’ three-quarters--it’s worth hanging for!” he said callously. He walked to a tall, narrow cupboard that ran up by the side of the fireplace and pulled open the door. There was room for a man to stand inside. The scrutiny of the interior gave him some satisfaction. “This is where some one stood”--he looked meaningly at Bat Sands--“when he koshed Ike Steen--Ike with the police money in his pocket, and ready to sell every man jack of you.” “Who’s in the next house?” a voice asked suddenly. Goyle laughed. He was the virtual landlord so far as the hiring of the house was concerned. He closed the cupboard door. “Not counting old George, it’s empty,” he said. “Listen!” In the deep silence there came the faint murmur of a voice through the thin walls. “Talkin’ to himself,” said Goyle with a grin; “he’s daft, and he’s as good as a watchman for us, for he scares away the children and women who would come prying about here. He’s----” They heard the front door shut quickly and the voices of two men in the passage below. Goyle sprang to his feet, an evil look on his face. “That’s Jimmy!” he whispered hurriedly. As the feet sounded on the stairs he walked to where his coat hung and took something from his pocket, then, almost as the newcomers entered the room, he slipped into the cupboard and drew the door close after him. Jimmy, entering the room in Connor’s wake, felt the chill of his reception. He felt, too, some indefinable sensation of danger. There was an ominous quiet. Bat Sands was polite, even servile. Jimmy noticed that, and his every sense became alert. Bat thrust forward a chair and placed it with its back toward the cupboard. “Sit down, Jimmy,” he said with forced heartiness. “We want a bit of a talk.” Jimmy sat down.